Fucking with gender and power

I've alluded to but never really elaborated on my love of gender-fuckery here on this blog. Why? Well, for starters my partner in crime didn't feel comfortable with me talking about it. It left him feeling exposed, despite the semi-anonymity that my nickname-giving affords. And so I've kept quiet, because I'd never want to betray his trust.

The reason I'm talking about it now is because he has given me permission to - he feels more comfortable with who he is, what we are, and I suppose is coming to accept that there is far from anything wrong with playing with gender in the way that we do.

I know that this can be a touchy subject, and so I'm going to preface it with a few givens: I'm fully aware that there exists across the full spectrum of cross-dressing, genderqueer and trans folk every combination of dominant, submissive, switch and non-D/s. But this is my observation from within the switch relationship I have with one cisgendered man. I'm not making wider assumptions.

We've played with gender before, quite a bit. I've dressed him up, and put makeup on him, made him even prettier for me, called him my beautiful girl. It's a wonderful, intimate space for the two of us, and something we both get a lot out of. And it is a type of play that has always been accompanied by my dominating him. I'm always 'Miss' as soon as the lacy knickers or the lipstick come out.

I've been pondering that lately. Not because I think that there is anything wrong with associating feminisation with submission: I think that in BDSM we play with cultural stereotypes often, and I also think that the road to understanding and decoding them can be through play. The reason I've been pondering it is this - I've always loved the thought of a feminised man dominating me. The drag bitch-diva archetype hits my buttons. And so I wanted to try it. I mentioned this to him, and he thought a moment, nodded his head and said, 'I'll see what I can do.' I love that about him. I feel like there is very little I could ask him for which wouldn't elicit that response.

Fast-forward to last night, when he made good on my request: I couldn't see what was going on behind me as I was bound and bent over my dining table. Miscellaneous clatterings and rustlings were going on, my ears straining to make sense of it, to understand what might be about to happen. When he returned to me, he took my hands behind me and guided them to touch him. Instead of warm skin, my searching fingers came into contact with the nylon-smoothness of his stockings. As they fumbled upwards slightly I touched on their lacy tops. It was the first time I'd ever met Madam, but she was a skilled and proficient Domme (as I suspected she would be, having already met her alter-ego); cruel but caring, and very hot.

And so how, then, did it come to pass that I ended up in charge? I have no memory of how the flip occurred at all - I just remember suddenly realising as I was straddling this same pretty girl, teasing her and extracting profuse apologies for getting ideas above her station, that this was not how the scene had started out, that I was supposed to be the sub. It was too late to turn back by then - we were both completely in our stride, enjoying ourselves and connecting well (albeit not as we had intended to).

For whatever reason, as soon as we stopped concentrating in a deliberate and contrived way on what our roles were meant to be, our subconscious drives took over - she became the fem sub she has always been. This has set me to wondering why. It was a mutual response, I think, and I suppose it would be fair to attribute at least a part of our switching in this scene on habit. We've always played with him as sub when he has been she - so perhaps it was just autopilot taking over as we became more aroused and weren't thinking consciously. But I don't think it's just that.

I can't help but wonder if I associate his dominance with his masculinity. What does that mean for me? Does this mean I'm a closet sexist? I don't think so; I'm quite a feminine Domme - I don't become any more masculine when I'm in charge. I don't see it as a male role. Does he associate his submission with his feminine side? Perhaps. Perhaps that is just where it sits in him, or perhaps they are just so close together in his subconscious because they have spent such a long time shoved in a corner of his being labelled: 'Other (Not Allowed)'. But even if that is the case, it doesn't explain my strange and sudden outburst of dominance. Unless I could smell the submission in him, barely suppressed. When we switch in general there is often a moment of faltering from one of us, a subtle humbling, that makes the other smell blood.

I think that it's useful for me to understand situations like this, to really understand my underlying assumptions about gender. I'm fascinated to know whether this flipping of roles will happen again, once we've both done some processing. Overall, though, whatever our explorations unearth, I'm really glad to be sharing something this special with someone I trust.